


Meeting the Family

by thecloudqueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Thanksgiving, making jokes about the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecloudqueen/pseuds/thecloudqueen
Summary: “Okay, so, um, just to warn you… After the whole Joffrey thing, my family can be a bit, um, overprotective. You’re the first person I’ve brought home since him, they may grill you a bit, make sure you’re not like him. Robb might give you the shovel talk and all that, regular older brother stuff, y’know? But I swear, they’ll love you!” Sansa finished hurriedly, turning her big blue eyes towards Brienne pleadingly. Internally, Brienne sighed. They were going to be suspicious of her regardless, and she knew she was going to mess something up. Externally, she smiled and squeezed Sansa’s shoulder affectionately. She could never resist Sansa’s puppy-dog eyes.“Don’t worry, Sans. I’ve faced worse than an overprotective big brother.”She had, right?





	Meeting the Family

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to anyone in the US!

“In half a mile, turn right. Then, your destination will be on the left,” announced the robotic voice coming from Brienne’s phone. In the passenger seat, Sansa groaned dramatically. 

“It’s about time! Not that you aren’t a lovely road trip partner, Bri, but there’s a reason I fly out on breaks. Ugh, I look like a mess.” She glanced at her reflection in her phone, reapplying her already perfect lip gloss. “I’m so excited! Mom and Dad are gonna love you, Bri, I swear.”

Brienne wished she shared her girlfriend’s easy confidence. 

The two had been dating for almost a year now. They had met in Professor Luwin’s medieval history class – just a GE for Brienne, but something she found herself looking forward to every week, if only to see Sansa’s bright smile and hear her soft voice speaking well thought-out analyses. The day Brienne had hesitantly come up to her after class to compliment her thoughts on songs as a form of propaganda, she had wanted to run and hide. But Sansa turned her beautiful beam towards Brienne, and began a conversation – Brienne had been head over heels since.

Still, Brienne was terrified when Sansa had suggested spending Thanksgiving up North with her family. It was true that Brienne’s father had planned to spend the holiday with his new girlfriend, so there was really no reason to come home for the short break – but Brienne was terrified. Terrified of messing up on some Northern tradition, of inadvertently insulting someone, of being judged unworthy of Sansa by her huge family. And speaking of family… 

“Okay, so, um, just to warn you… After the whole Joffrey thing, my family can be a bit, um, overprotective. You’re the first person I’ve brought home since him, they may grill you a bit, make sure you’re not like him. Robb might give you the shovel talk and all that, regular older brother stuff, y’know? But I swear, they’ll love you!” Sansa finished hurriedly, turning her big blue eyes towards Brienne pleadingly. Internally, Brienne sighed. They were going to be suspicious of her regardless, and she knew she was going to mess something up. Externally, she smiled and squeezed Sansa’s shoulder affectionately. She could never resist Sansa’s puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t worry, Sans. I’ve faced worse than an overprotective big brother.” 

She had, right?  
\---  
“Sansa!”

No sooner had Brienne pulled in to the huge driveway at the Starks’ house when three boys came running out. They must have been waiting for the car to arrive. One looked just like Sansa, had she been a boy and more inclined to work out – that was Robb. Then there was the lanky, smirking boy who must have been Theon, an odd cross between a foster brother and Robb’s best friend. Finally came Jon Snow, a small smile on his face. Although her cousin, he had lived with the Starks since he was a baby, and Sansa thought of all three men as her brothers.

Brienne shifted the car in to park, and Sansa jumped out of the car, hugging each of the men in turn. They chattered away, asking about her studies and making jokes. Brienne silently got out of the car, watching the proceeds with a small smile. Galladon might have done the same to her, had he lived. She would never admit it to Sansa, but she was a bit jealous of her girlfriend’s close family bonds. Still, she was happy to watch them, if only to get their attention off of her.

“You should go in, Mom’s going crazy in the kitchen,” Robb was saying. “I didn’t even know we owned that many pie tins. We’ll help Brienne here with the luggage.”

Sansa began to protest, but allowed herself to be pushed towards the house, smiling apologetically at Brienne. Brienne didn’t mind; might as well get the threats out of the way. She popped open the trunk.

“Well, Brienne, how have you been treating our Sansa?” asked Theon, reaching in to the trunk to take Sansa’s suitcase. He stumbled a bit, surprised at its weight; Sansa had packed far too much makeup and hair care for a weekend visit, in Brienne’s opinion. 

“You’ve been a perfect angel, I’m sure,” continued Robb, grabbing the suitcase from Theon’s hands. He was more prepared for the weight, and lifted it in front of him, as if demonstrating how easily he could carry it. 

Jon reached in to take Brienne’s (much lighter) suitcase. “Because, I’m sure you know, if you weren’t treating her properly, well…”

“There wouldn’t be anything left of you to bury,” finished Robb. He took Brienne’s suitcase from Jon as well, holding them both in his arms as though he were carrying a set of weights. Brienne was fairly certain that was supposed to be a show of strength, to lend credence to his threat, though the effect was fairly diminished by the flowered pink luggage. After a few seconds, he put both bags down, staring Brienne straight in the eyes.

Ridiculous show of force aside, Brienne smiled at the boys. “I love Sansa with all my heart. I would never do anything to hurt her, and if someone did, I would gladly join you in ensuring their remains.” She took the suitcases from Robb and walked in to the house, holding them proudly in front of her and not faltering. Behind her, she could hear Theon whisper, “How does she do that? That shit’s heavy, man!”  
\---  
When Brienne entered the house, Sansa was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a stern-faced older man sat on the couch, reading a book. Calmly, he looked up when Brienne entered. His gray eyes seemed to be reaching deep in to her soul, and the tall girl looked down awkwardly, stumbling a bit. The Stark boys were one thing – Sansa’s father was another.

“You must be Brienne,” he said, rising. Mr. Stark was by no means a short man, but Brienne still had several inches on him. None of this alleviated the feeling that he was looking down on her, and she squirmed a bit under his gaze. “I’m Ned Stark. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” He reached out a hand, and Brienne shook it.

“Likewise, sir. Sansa’s told me all about you.”

To be honest, Eddard Stark was one of Brienne’s idols. A former war hero, known for inspiring loyalty among his men, now he worked with veterans’ services, supporting those re-acclimatizing to a civilian life. The Starks were old money, and had a share in most major companies in Westeros. Mr. Stark left the running of those businesses to others, only stepping in to ensure fair wages, good working conditions, and support for charities. Even the tabloids struggled to find anything bad to say about the honorable Ned Stark. 

“Let me help you bring that up.” Mr. Stark effortlessly picked up Sansa’s suitcase (unsurprisingly, since he probably knew Sansa’s obsessive packing habits better than almost anyone) and led Brienne up a staircase. He stopped outside of a door, pushing it open to reveal a room larger than Brienne’s at home. “Sansa’s said she’d rather share the guest bedroom with you. You can leave your stuff here.”

Brienne pushed her suitcase inside, looking around. The room was spacious and bright, with large windows that looked out on to the Starks’ beautiful garden. The walls were mostly bare, with the occasional framed photograph. Brienne smiled at the family portrait taken just before Sansa left for college, and stopped at the photo of a young Ned Stark and the easily recognizable Robert Baratheon, dressed in full uniform and grinning at the camera.

Mr. Stark followed her eyes. “I forgot that was still up,” he said. His voice was unreadable, but Brienne knew that the two men had been the closest of friends until they had a falling out following Joffrey’s treatment of Sansa. She opened her mouth to apologize or change the topic, but Mr. Stark cut her off.

“Friendships formed in the military can stay for life. But sometimes… war changes people, in ways you’d rather not be changed.” He paused, and then, “Sansa tells me you’re in ROTC?”

“Yes, sir.” She flushed. When she was younger, she had always wanted to join the military, but had been forced to stay with that path even after that dream ended. Her father wasn’t poor, but they didn’t have enough spending money that Brienne could easily attend King’s Landing University, and the ROTC seemed like the logical choice. 

“Then I pray you’ll never have to see what I mean. I don’t miss my time in the army, Brienne, but know this. I learned I will do anything to protect my family.”

The threat was there, plain as day. Brienne just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Good.” Mr. Stark smiled a bit. “Come, let’s go see what Sansa and my wife are doing. And please, just call me Ned.”  
\---  
They had arrived fairly late, and Brienne excused herself to bed early, citing exhaustion from a long day of driving. Still, that meant that it was very early in the morning when she woke. She smiled, looking across the room at Sansa, still half-hidden by the blankets and red curls. Sansa would not be up for several hours yet; she was a deep and late sleeper, and Brienne couldn’t wake her now even if she wanted to.

Instead, Brienne got dressed and wandered downstairs. Maybe she would go for a run before breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the living room, Brienne saw Catelyn Stark, already awake, dressed, and bustling about. The two hadn’t talked much the day before, Mrs. Stark busy with meal preparations, but she had seemed kind and motherly. Now, the actual day of Thanksgiving, Mrs. Stark just seemed stressed.

“Um, good morning, Mrs. Stark,” offered Brienne.

Mrs. Stark paused a second, and then smiled brightly at her. “Brienne! Good morning. I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early, dear.”

“Do you need anything?” Brienne wasn’t too skilled of a cook – her father and her usually ordered Braavosi food or had microwave meals on Thanksgiving – but she felt obligated to offer. 

Mrs. Stark’s smile was almost terrifying. “You’re so sweet to offer, dear. Thank you. I’m working on a salad now – could you chop up some of the vegetables?” A knife and cutting board full of greens appeared in front of her, and Brienne nodded wordlessly. Chopping vegetables was something she could do.

The two worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, Brienne chopping anything put in front of her and Mrs. Stark seemingly cooking four dishes at once. Soon Mrs. Stark began asking her questions; at first they were simple enough.

“And you said you met Sansa at a medieval history class, dear? Are you very interested in that?”

“Um, sort of. I’ve always been interested in knights and stories like that,” Brienne admitted, blushing. With the exception of Sansa, most people found her interests childish. Mrs. Stark, however, laughed gently.

“Oh, I can see why Sansa likes you. Here, are you done?” She reached over and took the vegetables from Brienne. “You seem very sweet, Brienne. So let me tell you. I would do anything for my children. Sansa can be too trusting for her own good, sometimes. Should you give her reason to lose that trust in you – well. I’m sure your medieval history professor told you the story of the Purple Wedding?” Brienne nodded. “I know my history as well, Brienne. And I’m a very good cook.”

As Brienne tried to process that gently delivered threat, Sansa came bounding in. Her hair was disheveled, and Brienne couldn’t help but laugh as she kissed her on the cheek. “Morning, Bri. Morning Mom.”

“Morning,” said Brienne and Catelyn in unison. Brienne added, “I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“Obviously I’m awake! It’s Thanksgiving! Did you start the lemon pie already, Mom?”

“About to start in now, love. Brienne, would you like to stay for this? It’s Sansa and my yearly tradition.”

Brienne figured she should stay to inspect the food for poisons, but figured the lemon pie would probably be poison-free. After all, Sansa would probably eat most of it. And far be it from Brienne to interrupt a tradition. “No, thank you. I think I might go for a run. See you soon, Sans.”  
\---  
As Brienne stepped outside, a small figure ran out of the field of her vision. Brienne blinked. “Uh, hello?”

“Brienne! Oh, thank the gods, it’s just you.” The short figure of Arya Stark appeared out of thin air from behind a tree, followed by her dog Nymeria. “Sorry, I thought it was Mom trying to get me to join in cooking.”

Arya Stark was the subject of many of her sister’s rants, just as Sansa was likely the subject of Arya’s. The two sisters could not have been more different. Arya was as short-tempered as she was short, with the scars and fencing medals to back it up. Sansa would complain about her with one breath while admitting that she had a lot in common with Brienne with the next. Brienne could not make a bad impression on her.

“She’s making a lemon pie with Sansa now,” Brienne offered.

“Oh good, they never make me help with that.” Arya grinned. “Want to go for a run?”

Arya was a good running partner. Despite being nearly a foot shorter than Brienne, they kept a decent jogging pace together, and Arya felt no need to keep up a chatter of small talk, even though Sansa had said the girl was always quite sociable. It wasn’t until the two stopped to get some water that Arya actually talked.

“You’re a fast runner,” she said casually. Brienne opened her mouth to thank her, but Arya kept going. “Stronger than me, too, probably. Sans told me you played football. Still, your reflexes need some work. I could sneak up on you and you wouldn’t even notice.”

“Probably?” agreed Brienne. She had a sinking suspicion of where this was going.

“Look, half the time I want to kill Sansa, but all the time I would kill for her. If you hurt her, then they won’t even know where to find your body.”

“I won’t hurt her. But, duly noted.” 

“Good.” And then, just as casually as she had threatened her, Arya started talking about a fencing tournament she had done recently. Brienne chimed in with her own fencing experiences, and the two talked until they arrived back at the Stark house and Arya went to go find a way to sneak in. All and all, it was not the worst conversation Brienne had had.  
\---  
The kitchen was empty of both Sansa and Mrs. Stark when Brienne came in. Confused, she wandered to the living room, which also did not contain the Stark women, but did contain Sansa’s brother Bran, sitting in his wheelchair with his laptop.

Sansa described Bran as a sweet boy, who loved to laugh. He had been just as wild and athletic as Arya before a large fall crushed his legs. He was also a brilliant computer scientist. In confidence, Sansa had called him her favorite sibling, and told Brienne stories of nights sitting together, just chatting. If Bran didn’t like her, would he tell Sansa?

“They went to the store. Mom forgot the cranberries. Again.” Bran didn’t look up from his screen as Brienne entered.

“Oh, thanks.” Brienne took a seat on one of the other couches, and pulled out her phone, figuring she could relax a bit. Unexpectedly, Bran continued talking.

“How are your dad and Ravella?” 

More small talk. But Brienne was growing decent at it, and she actually liked her dad’s latest girlfriend. “They’re good, thanks. I talked to them yesterday – Ravella was saying she might get Dad to actually cook something. He – wait.” Brienne hadn’t even told Sansa Ravella’s name, normally just calling her ‘my dad’s new girlfriend.’ How did Bran know? Had Brienne mentioned it after all?

“Are they staying in the Stormlands, or going to visit Ravella’s daughter in the Riverlands?” 

Okay, Brienne knew she hadn’t told Sansa that Ravella had a daughter in the Riverlands.

“Your house is so beautiful, though. Your father should host more often. Your house was made for guests, not just your uncle.”

Brienne found her voice. “Um…”

“How are you liking your classes? Professor Luwin is so much better than Professor Pycelle, don’t you think? And certainly better than Mrs. Roelle.”

Mrs. Roelle was her high school mentor. Brienne had never mentioned her to Sansa. Brienne made a point not to mention her at all. She was staring at Bran now, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Bran, for his part, had remained expressionless throughout.

“Privacy is an illusion, Brienne. There are ways of finding out anything about anyone. Including you.” Bran snapped his laptop shut. “If you hurt Sansa, there will be nowhere for you to hide, nowhere for you to run. We will come for you.”

“I’m not going to hurt Sansa!” exploded Brienne. “If you’ve done all your research on me, you should know that! I love her. Stop threatening me! Um, please,” she added quickly, not wanting Sansa to walk in on her yelling at her little brother.

Bran shrugged and smiled. The happiness was an abrupt change from his prior expressionless face. “Okay, then. Thought as much; had to make sure. Do you know how to play cyvasse?”

“Yes?” The Starks were amazing at abrupt topic changes, it seemed. “I’m not very good…”

“Neither am I. Let’s play. May as well pass the time.”  
\---  
“It’s time!” Sansa and Mrs. Stark had run back and forth to the kitchen, getting plates and dishes. The kitchen table was beautifully decorated and perfectly color-coordinated. Mr. Stark and Robb had carved the turkey, and it looked lovely, right in the middle of the table.

“Bran! Come on, we’re starting – the Three Eyed Raven can wait, Bran! Rickon, no dogs at the table. Yes, even Shaggy. He can eat after. Theon – has anyone actually seen Theon? Is he awake yet? Jon, go wake up Theon. Arya – oh, she was just here!”

Mrs. Stark hustled everyone until they were sitting around the table. Brienne found herself in between Arya and a smiling Sansa, who grabbed her hand and squeezed it. 

“Now,” announced Mr. Stark at the head of the table. “It’s a tradition, Brienne, to go around the table and say what everyone is thankful for. I’ll start. I’m thankful for all of my family, blood or not. I’m thankful for Benjen and Lyanna and everyone who can’t be here, for whatever reason. I’m thankful for Cat, my love, my wife.” The two shared a loving look across the table; little Rickon made barfing noises. “Okay, Rickon, you can go next.”

Rickon sighed. “I’m grateful that Mom made pumpkin pie this year!” At his father’s look, he added, “And I’m grateful for Shaggy and my friends. And you all, I guess.”

“Good enough,” declared Mr. Stark. Beside Rickon, Robb was stifling a giggle. They went around the table, mostly saying similar things, until they got to Brienne. Brienne took a deep breath – even in such a comfortable environment, she hated public speaking. “I’m thankful for all of you, for making me feel so welcome. And I’m thankful for Sansa, for bringing me here.”

“I’m thankful for you too, Bri,” Sansa agreed, kissing Brienne on the lips in front of everyone. Rickon made more vomit noises, but Mr. and Mrs. Stark were smiling at them.

And then it was time to eat.  
\---  
“So, Rickon, why don’t you share the story of Thanksgiving with us? The version you learned in school, please, nothing that Theon told you.” Mr. Stark was finishing up his turkey as he asked. Rickon picked at his food and sighed dramatically.

“Okay. Long ago, the Dragon Queen came to Westeros. The White Wolf agreed to meet with her, and the two formed an alliance against the Others. The White Wolf offered his resources to the Dragon Queen in exchange for dragon glass. The two saved Westeros together. The end.” With a glance at his father, Rickon added, “And then they had boat sex.”

“Rickon!” scolded Mrs. Stark, although the entire table was laughing. Arya high-fived Theon. Jon rolled his eyes and asked in the weary tone of one who had had this argument many times, “But weren’t they aunt and nephew?”

“They weren’t raised as aunt and nephew, Jon.”

“So? They still were. That’d be like me having sex with Aunt Catelyn. Worse.”

“Jon.”

“Sorry, auntie.”

“They were fighting huge ice zombies, and you’re disturbed by a bit of incest?”

“The Others aren’t real, Bran.”

“A lot has gotten lost in translation. The ballads refer to them as if they were ice monsters, but they just as well could have been invaders from the far North. The maesters’ records from the time are uncertain.”

“Sansa coming in clutch with her history major.”

“Shut up, Theon.”

“The Others are stupid. Is it time for pie yet, Mom?”

“Hush, Rickon. Brienne, tell us. What did you learn about the War of the Long Night? Sansa tells me you were brilliant in that class.”

It took Brienne a moment to realize Mrs. Stark was talking to her, but as she answered, the rest of the Starks listened, smiling and asking more questions. And then the conversation continued, and no one was laughing at her as she stumbled over her words or pointedly ignoring her.

As the Starks bickered around her, Brienne smiled. Yes, she decided. She could be happy with the Starks.  
\---  
“Well. That was exhausting.”

Whether Sansa was referring to the trip in general, or the forty minutes of goodbyes and drive safes and remember to calls that her family had given before the girls left, Brienne didn’t know, but agreed. She loved the Starks, loud and laughing, but she was more than ready for a relaxing drive back to school, followed by a few hours of cuddling in their apartment.

“Did my family treat you okay? I wish I could’ve spent more time with you, but I know that they’d love you. I…”

Sansa trailed off. Although the car was on and the two girls were about to leave, Rickon came running out of the house, Shaggydog at his heels.

“What is it, Ricky? Did I forget something?”

Rickon all but ignored his sister, instead opening the driver side door and glaring Brienne right in the eye. “If you hurt my sister, I’m gonna punch you in the face!” he declared, before turning and bounding in to the house. 

Sansa laughed once, a short, surprised, laugh. “Well, I warned you.”

“Oh, Sansa,” Brienne smiled, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek. “You don’t know the half of it.”


End file.
